


playdates

by kookseok



Category: GOT7
Genre: First Kisses, M/M, established relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6281983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kookseok/pseuds/kookseok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mark and youngjae share their first kiss after a month of known feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	playdates

**Author's Note:**

> for hannah! bc we talk about markjae too much to be considered healthy.

 

mark can't seem to focus. his bed is covered in a strewn of papers and pens because youngjae just can't seem to choose the right one, and the textbook on his lap weighs heavy. however, it's not the mess that's bothering mark, it's the shoulder to shoulder touch that's leaving him hung up on a clothesline during an awfully warm spring day, billowing in the summer breeze. this isn’t the first time, nor the second or third, and he can’t quite seem to calm the flourish of butterflies that bloom at the bottom of his stomach—it’s as if they’ve never left and he’s choking on impatience. 

he fiddles with the eraser of his pencil, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he tries to review the passage for the umpteenth time, coming up short when youngjae shifts next to him and presses himself closer. mark’s eyes graze over the fine tips and dips of youngjae, exclusive in their nature but all the more appealing. the light from the window filters in through the curtains and gold specks flitter about in the glow it castes over the bed, brushing youngjae’s shoulders and splaying across the base of his neck. it radiates, permeating even the coldest parts of his exterior, but he supposes it’s just youngjae’s presence.

choi youngjae was everything mark imagined the definition of the sun to be. he was brilliant and warm— mark had easily fallen into the fathomless pit of his ebony eyes. he was the small peak of light in the dark of his life, because life was an overbearing ease that dragged not one but all. although, if there was one thing mark loved the most about the younger male it was when he would smile, eyes crinkling and all— as if mark had spent so long inside and under the blooming ray of warmth hidden under youngjae’s smile it felt as though the sun was planting firm but tender kisses to his moonlit skin.

this was best comparison mark could put into words. 

youngjae mumbles something while turning a page, the soft sound of paper echoing around the room. mark can’t help but softly chuckle at the lock of hair that comes down to tickle the outskirts of youngjae’s eyelids. when youngjae hears, he turns to the side and looks at mark with parted lips and wide eyes. mark brings a hesitating hand up, pauses just before he makes one gentle sweep of his index finger to brush the hair aside; youngjae stills. mark scans over the beauty mark nestled under his eye, down the soft curve of his nose and atop the bow of his lips—a landscape so divine he wonders if the real thing could ever compare. the same index finger gently sweeps across youngjae’s bottom lip, a smile gracing his lips when youngjae’s tongue darts out in wonderful appeal.

“is this okay?” mark whispers, thumb grazing across youngjae’s jawline. 

youngjae’s nod is slight, but apparent in the way his cheeks come to life, a pale rose garden blooming under the precarious glaze of the sun. mark falls apart and takes that leap, bringing his lips to gently graze youngjae’s, light and coy in their touch. 

it’s sweet the way youngjae’s lips fit perfectly against mark’s. it feels as though this was meant to be, meant to happen in the many universes that rest parallel of their own. mark pulls back slightly, lips softly brushing against the boy’s while a sigh wisps out of youngjae, his eyes fluttering open as they gaze at mark. he doesn’t say a word, both of them lingering longer than the appropriate time for combustion. 

after a prolonging moment, still in the midst of their youth, youngjae whispers mark’s name against the breadth of pause. he brings a shaking hand up the curve of mark’s neck and pulls him close— an invitation into the depths of the unknown. mark’s lips flourish a spring upon youngjae’s neck and it’s all so comforting. they plunder into the crevices and leave no spot unscathed as youngjae’s heavy sighs against mark’s ears instill an excitement that blooms a rush of gold from the base of his neck and into the folds of his mind. his hands flitter over the expanse of mark’s chest, like a weak moth at the sight of light, and their unhesitating touch breaks the barrier of their limitations. 

mark lightly places his hand on youngjae’s shoulder and tugs at the seams, revealing moonlit skin. a sough escapes through youngjae’s parted lips: a breath of surrender, and mark presses his lips to the moon. 

it feels right. it feels like everything he’s ever wanted— to hold youngjae in his arms and pluck the bouquet of their awaiting affection. the small whimper youngjae does when he presses his lips flush against his once more—both inexperienced, untouched, and all the more eager—is saccharine to his ears; the warmth of youngjae’s touch sinking dermal deep and into the marrow of his bones.

a sound breaks the resonating ring of their atmosphere and they pull apart in a hurry, papers crunching underneath their weight, breathing labored and eyes glossy. the tips of youngjae’s ears are tinged with a cherry red, and the blossoming splotches of fuchsia on his neck appear sweet and alive during this break between seasons. silence grows like desire seeping into newfound relationships, both scrambling to find some sort of relief from the tension that settles over them like a fog. 

mark smiles, unabashed and thankful as a long minute passes by without surprise, fingers fiddling with a loose string hanging off a rip in his jeans. his heart is pounding wildly, from the fear of being caught and the joy of being wound in the one thing he admires, feels that beat in his chest, his throat, and in his ears. he feels the goosebumps on his skin tingle and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he remembers the feel of youngjae’s hands against his skin—reminds him of when youngjae told him he liked him a month ago at the base of of his front porch. 

within moments youngjae is chuckling from the other side, papers crumpled underneath his knees and shirt loosely hanging off his shoulder, placing a firm hand on the exposed skin. mark tries not to smile at the whole ordeal, apologizes for the mess he created, and crosses the short distance between them both. it’s sweet, gentle this time around, and lasts long enough for both of them to understand what this truly means. 

 


End file.
